


Shared Life Experiences (Or: Torture Buddies! :D )

by thekumquat



Category: captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Discussion of Torture, Gen, PTSD, Recovery, canonically queer Wade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-05
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-16 11:44:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3487058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekumquat/pseuds/thekumquat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Capkink prompt here: http://capkink.dreamwidth.org/1349.html?thread=469829%20-%20cmt469829</p>
<p>Wade's happy to say he's finally found a real friend. [Well, found him in an abandoned building, half-frozen and still trying to cut Wade's hand off because he wouldn't stop poking him.]</p>
<p>It's nice though, having someone around who actually wants him. Needs him, even, because Wade's new friend isn't in the best shape. It's nice to be needed. And he doesn't even mind it when Wade has to put a bullet in the occasional head.</p>
<p>It's almost like having a dog, if a dog could go out and fetch chimichangas for dinner. Well, on a good day at least. And on the bad days, Wade doesn't even mind it when his new friend stabs him in the chest or breaks a couple of bones or anything.</p>
<p>Because Wade...well, he knows something about torture and experiments and being driven insane.</p>
<p>And he doesn't care if Captain America is his idol or not, Wade's not giving up his new friend for nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In which Wade breaks into an empty warehouse and makes a friend. Kind of.

Wade liked hanging around old, abandoned warehouses. They were like giant presents: you never knew what kind of cool stuff you’d stumble across inside until you opened it up. It could be rusted old pipes! It could be boxes of a poorly conceived as-seen-on-TV product! It could be a dead body! _You never knew_. 

It was cold out today, so cold that Wade had brought a plastic bag in case anything fell off while he was sneaking around. He’d lost a toe that way once and it was such a _pain_ waiting for it to grow back on it’s own. 

**Its.**

Yes, thank you, narration. It could be tricky to keep your possessives straight when you were trying to pick a rusted old lock with frozen fingers. This one was just refusing to budge. 

“Well _fine_ , be that way,” he grumbled, getting to his feet. “I’ll go find another lock. A prettier one that’ll actually let me in, little miss cheerleaders-don’t-date-losers. Of course they do! Go watch _The Breakfast Club_ , Karen!” 

Around the corner was good news and bad news. The good news was there was another door with a less rusty lock. The bad news was someone else had already kicked the door in. He examined the ground around the door, but it was all dirty concrete, no way to see if there were any footprints leading out as well as in. 

**Maybe they’re a friend!**

“And maybe they’re not,” Wade said, gleefully, drawing a gun. “Tonight just keeps getting better and better.” 

He pushed the door in gently and crept inside, inching down the hallway past long abandoned offices. Normally he’d duck inside and scrounge for paperclips and pencil stubs, but today he had a mission. A _sneaky_ mission. 

The door at the end of the hallway had not so much been kicked open as ripped off the hinges. It hung lopsidedly, threatening to tear itself away completely at the first touch. He edged around it and stepped into the stale openness of the warehouse’s main room. 

He spotted the man in the corner right away. At first glance, he might have passed for a pile of old clothes, or at least a corpse, but Wade was really good at telling. Plus the guy was looking right at him, which helped too. 

The man’s eyes were dark and wide, regarding Wade in a way that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a raccoon in a have-a-heart trap. This would require tact and gentleness. 

**Shame we don’t have any of those things.**

“Hey there!” Wade said, sticking his gun in the holster. Not his waistband. You only had to accidentally shoot yourself in the dick once to learn what a terrible idea that was. The man said nothing. 

“My name’s Wade. You may have heard of me before as… _Deadpool_.” He struck a cool pose.

**Not that cool.**

The man continued to stare, his feral glare beginning to give way to confusion and uncertainty. 

“No? Nothing. Fair enough. Watcha doin in here? It’s cold. Aren’t you cold? I’m practically freezing my nuts off in here.” 

Again, no answer, but Wade was now close enough to make the man nervous. He shifted, and his left hand brought up a gun, pointed right at Wade’s head. 

Wade barely noticed, because the hand and the arm attached to it were silver, save for the red star at the shoulder. 

“Oh my _god oh my god oh my god!_ ” he squealed. “You’re the _Winter Soldier_! Oh my gosh, I am such a huge fan. Oh my god, that thing with you and Black Widow in Odessa, oh my god, I wish I’d seen it. You shot that guy right through her! That’s just so f#@%ing cool!” 

The man—the _Winter Soldier_ – tightened his grip on the gun. 

“You HYDRA?” he asked. His voice was not at all what Wade expected. He’d always imagined the Winter Soldier to have a basso profundo voice that rattled through your bones like a doomsday prophesy. Instead, his voice was a pleasant if gravely baritone that was…pretty normal, actually.   
It was a little disappointing. Also sorta sexy, in a boy next door kinda way. He realized the Winter Soldier was waiting for an answer. 

“Me? HYDRA? Heavens no. Not even SHIELD. They and I did not get along. Hoo boy. Nah, I’m freelance. Killin dudes and getting paid, that’s how I roll. Why, you owe them money?”

“No.” 

“They owe you money?” 

The man’s mouth twisted into something bitter, and he lowered the gun and looked away. 

“Ooh, ooh, wait, let me guess: HYDRA kidnapped and brainwashed you and turned you into a super soldier again your will?” 

The Winter Soldier looked at him sharply, and then nodded, once. 

“Oh em gee, samsies!” Wade put his fists up to his mouth and squeed. “I can’t believe we have so much in common. We have sooo much to talk about. I mean, I didn’t know they were HYDRA at the time, but the guy running the Weapon X project was HYDRA and when couldn’t use me to make a viable super soldier serum they tossed me down a chute to be a lab rat to a guy who was _definitely_ HYDRA, but that’s practically almost the same thing, right?” 

Wade dropped down next the Winter Soldier, who scooted away a few inches. Wade followed. 

“Oh my god, this is going to be the greatest thing ever. You and me, we can be torture buddies! You can come to my place and we’ll eat Mexican food and watch the Golden Girls – you like the Golden Girls right? Of course you do, _everybody_ likes the Golden Girls – and it’ll be the greatest most fun thing ever!” 

The Winter Soldier wrinkled his nose, looking highly displeased. 

“C’moooon, it’ll be fun! What would you rather do, sit here and freeze your butt off in the cold alone, OR come back to my place where it’s warm and there’s food?”

The soldier just turned away. Wade poked him in the arm. 

“C’monnn.” Poke. “C’moooonnnn.” Poke poke- _snap_. Wade yelped. The Winter Soldier had just grabbed his wrist with his metal hand and squeezed, bones fracturing in his grip. “Oh son of a b-word, that hurt!” 

Wade rolled back onto the ground, clutching at his wrist. “Ow ow ow…” 

“Leave me alone.” 

Wade rolled till he was face down on the cold concrete and hissed in pain as the bones knit back together. When the ache faded he popped upright. 

“I’m okay!”

“What.”

“Sooooo, are you coming or not?” 

“Give me one good reason why I should. That _isn’t_ food.” 

**I think we need one of our serious moments.**

“Okay, but I only get a couple of those per installment so this better work. Look,” he said, to the bewildered man. “I know what it’s like to have somebody root around in your head and take you apart and put you back together just because they can. I know what it’s like to be at HYDRA’s mercy. And look at me! I’m practically a fully functional human being, almost! Right now you want to be functional, and you’re not gonna get that hanging out here. C’mon.” He held out his hand. 

To his delight, the man took it. Wade hauled him to his feet. Wade slung an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in tight. 

“We are gonna be the best buddies ever.” 

There was another snap as the Winter Soldier crushed Wade’s right pointer finger and dragged his arm from around his shoulders. 

“Ha ha ha, ow, oh man you are _such_ a kidder! We are gonna have a _blast_!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there are names, Golden Girls, and a ridiculous amount of Chinese food. Also, Wade is surprisingly competent at dealing with other's trauma (but it probably won't last long)

Wade threw open the door to his apartment and held his arms out.

“Tadaaa~” he sang. The Winter Soldier made an unimpressed noise, which was just so unfair. Wade’s apartment was actually clean! Sure there was a pile of pizza boxes in the corner that went all the way up to the ceiling and the carpeting in the living room was starting to wear through to the floor and Wade didn’t own a single piece of furniture that was first-, second-, or third-hand. But it all added up to a certain Wade-like charm.  
It was, at the very least, not a shithole, and it wasn’t anything like the warehouse.

“Come in, come in, make yourself at home!” Wade cried, leading the Winter Soldier – the actual, factual, real life Winter Soldier in his very own apartment! – inside. The Winter Soldier’s expression of extreme judgment did not budge.

“This is the eating area, this is the living room, this is the kitchen, that’s the bathroom and in here is my bedroom. It’s a full size bed, so there’s room for two but only if we squish in real close. I hope you don’t mind being the big spoon.”

“I’m always the goddamn big spoon,” the Winter Soldier said. There was a long moment of silence. The Winter Soldier’s expression shifted between confusion, disgust, and frustration before settling back into a blank mask.

“Well I was not expecting that. Let me know. I’m a switcher. Not in sex! Just in cuddling. Wait, uh.”

The Winter Soldier didn’t seem to be—wait hold on, this was just getting awkward.

“Do you have a name? Something I can call you other than Winter Soldier? It’s making my narration all clunky.”

The Winter Soldier (uuuuuggghhh) looked panicked. His eyes darted all over the room. His lips moved and his eyes squeezed shut tightly, like he was trying to block something out. Wade waited, patiently.

“Yuri,” he said uncertainly. Then, “No. No, that’s not. Yasha?” He pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. “That’s not right, it’s almost right, but it’s not.”

“Hey, take your time, names are hard.”

“…James,” the man said at last, so softly Wade almost couldn’t hear it. “I can’t be…him. But I think I could be James. I think I could do that.”

“Great!” Wade said to James, deciding not to touch whatever that was with a ten foot pole. “Sounds peachy keen. You should take a shower. I take hygiene very seriously here.”

**And it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that we know he’s totally ripped under all that body armor. ******

Of course not. Shush.

“I have clothes that should almost sort of fit you; we’re practically nearly the same size.” Wade disappeared into his bedroom and began to dig through his dresser. Hmm. Which of his shirts could withstand the awesome might of the Winter Soldier’s biceps? His eyes fell on his Hawaiian button up.

“No,” he whispered. “Not yet. Soon.”

He heard the rumble of the pipes and the slap of leather against the tile floor. The fucking Winter Soldier was taking a shower in his bathroom. Today was the best. Day. Ever.

He finally settled on sweatpants and a tshirt, because all Wade wanted to do after a long day was be a slob, and he felt he should extend the Wint— _James_ the same courtesy. Speaking of which, he shucked out of his own uniform and into something comfortable. Probably should wear pants though. They weren’t really at the underwear stage yet.

Wade left everything in neat pile in front of the bathroom door, then made his way into the kitchen to shuffle through his enormous collection of take out menus. He should get a rolodex. Did they make rolodexes big enough for menus?

**I don’t know, let’s give the 80’s a call and ask.**

James stayed in the shower for twenty minutes, and then stayed in the bathroom for another fifteen minutes. Not that Wade was counting. That would be weird. When Wade heard footsteps approaching the kitchen he started talking.

“So I’ve narrowed our choices down to Chinese or Mexican; I figure we should save Indian for lat—“

He trailed off. The arm was _so shiny_. And muscular. Both his arms were muscular. And the tshirt clung to his still wet skin, showing off even more muscle.

“Um.”

“What?” James demanded, glaring.

“Nothing. Wow. Uh.” He shoved the Chinese takeout menu at him. “Blue looks really good on you.”  
James looked confused, then further confused when he looked at the menu.

“What is this?”

“A menu. You pick what you want and then they bring it to you.”

James opened the menu and scanned it. Then he looked back at Wade, still uncomprehending.

“Pick what you want,” Wade repeated. James looked at the menu. A muscle twitched in his jaw. His flesh hand began to tremble. When a bead of sweat began to run down his temple, Wade realized what was up.

 _Choices._ Wade had had trouble making choices after he got out, just because he wasn’t used to having any. Dollars to donuts the Winter Soldier had been actively punished for having preferences. You didn’t want your gun thinking it could make a decision on its own.

“You know what, nevermind. I’ll just order some of everything and you can eat what you like.”

 

Dynasty Palace was delighted to hear from Wade, as always. You regularly order everything on the menu, and they start to remember you.  
“Food should be here soonerish than laterish. You wanna watch tv while we wait? Oooh, let’s watch Golden Girls!”

Wade flopped down on the couch and waved James over to do the same.

“Normally I’d just do a best of compilation, but I think for you we should start at the very beginning. ~It’s a very good place to staaaart~” he sang as he queued up the DVD. “Episode one!” he announced as he plopped down on the couch. “Blanche Devereaux plans to marry the handsome Harry. Her friends are happy for her, but concerned, and rightly so! For Harry has a dark, dark secret.”

He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically. James’ face was a blank mask, though Wade could see the irritation ticking behind it. You got good at reading people for those sorts of things.

 

Two episodes later, the doorbell rang. James started forward, hand flying to his waistband and curling around a gun. Wade was impressed – not only had he not even noticed the gun, it was really hard to keep a gun in place with a pair of sweatpants. Maybe that’s what he’d been doing in the bathroom for the fifteen minutes.

“Relax, it’s the delivery guy. Or, guys. Probably.”

He peeped through the peephole, and opened the door.

“Danny, my darling dulcet delivery boy, I am delighted to see you.”

Danny grinned and began handing over bags.

“Nice to see you too, Mr Wilson. Boss says the soups are on the house and he threw in extra fried rice.”

“Bless that man,” Wade said, hand over his heart. He peeled a few hundreds out of the wad of cash in his pocket. “Aaand one more for you.”  
Danny beamed.

“You’re the best, Mr Wilson.”

“And don’t you forget it. Now scram!”

It took him almost ten minutes to open all the cartons and lay out all the food.

“Okay. Let’s start you off with dumplings. Everybody likes dumplings. Here, these are pork.”

James stared at dumplings as if they might rear up and attack.

“Pork.”

“Yeah. You know, from pigs? Oink oink?”

“I know what it is,” he snapped. Wade shrugged his shoulders and dug into his sweet and sour chicken. Out of the corner of his eye he saw James glaring at the dumplings. He stabbed one with a chopstick (note to self, teach winter soldier how to use chopsticks) and bit into it viciously. His face twisted into something that was less “fist of Hydra” and more “three year old eating grapefruit for the first time”.

**When was the last time he got to say “no thanks, don’t really want that”, genius?**

Damnit, helping was hard!

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.”

James glanced over at him, jaw working around the food.

“Seriously, if you hate it, just spit it out.”

He did. Right back into the container. EW.

James dropped the container onto the coffee table and glared at the floor, handed clenching and unclenching.

**Great. He’s been here for less than three hours and we’re already traumatizing him.**

This was your idea!

**It was _not._**

“Hey. Dude. Relax. It’s okay. We’re in the same boat, remember? Hydra torture buddies? Neither of us is in charge, here. Nobody’s gonna do anything to anybody.”

He hoped this didn’t count as one of his serious moments. He didn't get a lot of those, and he didn’t want to run out at an inopportune moment.

“Seriously. It’s okay to hate pork dumplings. It’s weird, but it’s okay.”

“I don’t hate them, I just… can’t eat them.”

“…Whyyyy?”

“I don’t know. I can’t. It’s…wrong.”

“Well, here. Try this. Vegetarian fried rice. And a spoon.”

 _That_ James wolfed down, eyes glued to the screen as Blanche wrung her hands over whether or not she should donate a kidney to her sister.

First major hurdles, jumped. Crossed. Whatever. Pretty good for a guy who never got over his own issues. He had this in the bag.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which shit gets real.

They made it almost to the end of season one before James started yawning hugely.

“Let’s turn in,” Wade said. “Sleep is an important part of a healthy lifestyle.”

James gave him another “why are you so weird and why am I putting up with you” look. Aw, see, they were friends already!

“You take the bed, I’ll take the couch,” Wade said. Jokes about spooning aside, James had already made it clear he valued his personal space. And Wade wasn’t really _that_ into cuddling strangers.

Besides, Wade liked sleeping on the couch. The springs were so musical.

He glanced at the clock as James shut the bedroom door behind him. 1:38 A.M. An early night, for him. He was asleep almost immediately.

 

 

That same clock cheerfully informed him that it was 5:36 A.M. when he woke up to screaming. It was an interesting sensation. Usually he was the one screaming. He hopped off the couch and ran into the bedroom.

James was thrashing on the bed, hands clutching and tearing at Wade’s sheets. Wade tried to make out words, but there was nothing but noise.

Hm. He should probably do something before the neighbors called the police. Not that anyone had ever called the police for any of the other stuff he’d done, but it was probably best to stay safe. The police might arrest Wade for some things (murder, arson, unlicensed gun-having, more murder), but James was the _Winter Soldier_. They’d probably just shoot him.

“Hey!” Wade shouted. He grabbed James by the shoulders and shook. “Hey, wake up!”

James lurched up into a sitting position, eyes filled with fire and fear, metal hand flying for Wade’s neck.

Wade had just enough time to think “aw, man, _really_?” before his larynx went crunch, and the world blinked out.

 

Wade had discovered that the messiness of the death did not necessarily correlate to the pain of healing. For example, beheading was relatively painless, if done right, but a bitch and a half to come back from. Getting shot in the head was _super_ messy, but since he tended not to wake up until after his skull was knitting together, Wade counted it as one of the easiest deaths to recover from.

Crushed neck was about midway through the scale. Not too messy, didn’t take too long to wake up, but god damn was it obnoxious. He’d sound like Selma Bouvier for at least the next two days.

The first breath of air he managed to take whistled through his lungs like he was breathing through a straw.  He coughed, and bones clicked as they slid around. The second breath was easier. The coughing began in earnest, sounding less like a death rattle and more like a cat yakking up a hairball. Not ideal, but at least alive sounding, which was key.

The door slammed open. Wade rolled onto his side and squinted up. James was staring at him in open horror. His eyes were wide and red-rimmed. Wade tried to speak but just made an ugly croaking noise. James raised a shaking finger to point at him.

“I killed you,” he said. Wade nodded, but the other man shook his head. James clutched at his hair. “Oh god, oh god I’m hallucinating.” 

“No. You really did kill me. I’m like Teflon; it doesn’t stick. Also: cancer.”

James did not look convinced.

“I killed you,” he said again.  

“Yes! You snapped my neck, I died, I got better, and now I’m awake. And kind of hungry. Did we have any leftovers?”

“People don’t just come back from the dead!” James yelled. Then he stopped and looked uncomfortable. “I mean. They’re not supposed to.”

Wade snorted, and winced. Ow.

“Death doesn’t stop people like us, even when we wish it had.”

**Too serious. Quick, tell a joke, or we’ll lose another moment. We’re already down by two!**

“I got a healing factor that Captain America would be jealous of. I can come back from pretty much anything.”

He did not miss the way James winced at the mention of Cap. Wade figured wouldn’t be too happy to be reminded of his failed attempt to kill America’s national icon either. Not that he’d ever try. There were some things money couldn't buy, and that was Wade’s patriotism.

“Anything?” James repeated, slightly stunned.

“I’ve been shot, stabbed, poisoned, crushed, beheaded, gutted, strangled, smothered, defenestrated, uh… hang on, I had more. Um…dismembered…annnnd… eaten once, I think. Maybe twice, if you count those mutant zombie ladies. I mean, come on, my best friend used to blow my brains out as a joke!”

Heh. Nate always had a great sense of humor. He wished Nate was there to help. James and Wade had a lot of very similar issues, and Nathan always knew what Wade

**Nnnnnnnope nope nope, we are not dealing with those feelings tonight.**

Good call narration. Three…two…one…aaaand repressed.

“So I can’t kill you,” James was saying slowly. “No matter what I do to you.”

“Got it in one. But, uh…it is actually super unpleasant, so maybe don’t do it unless you really really have to. Kay thanks.”

James stared a little longer. He knelt down next to Wade and pulled the collar of Wade’s shirt away, inspecting his neck. The bruising was hard to see under all the scars, but you could see the dents in his neck popping out as the bones healed.

“Better than Captain America’s,” James said.

“Told ya. Maybe if he had my healing factor he could have swam back to the States from the Arctic instead of freezing into a capsicle.”

James’s brow furrowed.

“What?”

“You know. Captain America has to save the day from HYDRA? Flying the plane full of bombs, no time to figure out how to land it? Tragic conversation with love of his life? Nosedives into the arctic?” Wade imitated a plane crash with his hand. “Nyyyeerrrrr sploosh.”

James’ face contorted with rage. Wade scooted back hurriedly.

“No killing twice in one night! It’s rude!”

“He did _what_?!” the other man bellowed.  

“What?” Wade parroted, bewildered. “I don’t know! He crashed the plane, everyone knows about that! Don’t you listen to music or watch TV? Bruce Springsteen, _All American Boy_ ; Billy Joel, _Born in Brooklyn;_ Quentin Terintino, _The Howling Cammandos_?”

James flung himself out of the room and stormed into the living room. Wade scrambled after him. He watched, concerned, while James looked around wildly.

“Uh… can I be of assistance, James old buddy old pal?”

“You have a computer, right? Everybody has computers now.”

“Yeah I have a laptop, it’s on the kitchen ta—“

James practically teleported to the other side of the room. Wade decided sleep wasn’t really on the menu for the rest of the day and settled in watch. James hunched over the laptop, muttering to himself. Every now and again he hissed something that sounded like Russian. Wade didn’t speak much of that, but he could swear in it.

“Son of a _bitch_ ,” was snarled at least once. 

“You stupid motherfucker” twice.

“God damn it god damn it god damn it god damnit _DAMMIT_ ,” too many times to count.

Suddenly James brought his metal hand crashing down on the laptop, shattering it. He let out a long furious yell and threw the remains of the laptop at the wall. He buried his hands in his hair and tugged, snarling to himself. Wade wondered if he should go make coffee.

James stood up, kicking the chair and sending it flying. He buried his metal fist in the wall once, twice. He threw another chair. Wade thought maybe coffee should wait. James was still shouting in Russian, but it was too fast for Wade to even pick out the swears.

So he stood there and watched while James trashed his living room. James upended the couch and punched holes in the wall and shattered the window and ground the laptop into powder. When he draw back his foot to put it through the middle of the tv, Wade decided he’d had enough.

“Whoa, hey! Nu uh!”

James turned on him, eyes bright with

**tears?**

rage, their previous “no killing your host twice in one night” conversation clearly completely forgotten. Wade dove out of the way when James lunged, only for James’ hand to clamp down on his bicep, squeezing until the bone snapped. Wade kicked out, landing a solid hit to the groin. James barely flinched, which Wade found extremely impressive. That move always hurt, no matter your training or healing factor. Even _Wolverine_ dropped for that move.

James took advantage of Wade’s surprise and slammed his left elbow down over his head. The déjà vu hit, sudden and unwelcome.

_Good sparring._

_Was missing something._

_Massage oil?_

**No, stop it.**

A metal fist cracked across his jaw.

_Say something to make me mad…was it worth it, Nate?_

**NO. FOCUS. FOCUS.**

His mind was slipping and sliding all over. Memories swamped him like waves.

There was a knife in his hand. He managed to slice James across the chest with it, but it didn’t seem to stop him any.

That metal fist was back, slamming into his face again and again. James was saying something, but it was Nathan’s voice in his ear.

_Always comes back to this._

**Shut up shut up shut up, fight, do something!**

Wade tried to wrap his hand around James’ throat, but couldn’t reach. Blood poured from his broken nose down his throat, choking him.

_For two people who say they don’t need each other_

**do something DO SOMETHING fight back get up stop him stop him now before he kills you before he breaks you before he**

_both of us keep doing a lot of stupid things to try and stay_

**leaves again**

_together_

Wade died, again. He did not go quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, you guys, I just started a new job and it's taking up a lot of my time. ;A;


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a wild plot appears!

When Wade woke up, it was daylight, and he was fucking pissed. No grawlixes this time.

He hauled himself to his feet, rubbing at his face. His mask had come off at some point during the night, and it made his skin itch to be out in the light without it on. He hadn’t taken it completely off for weeks.

It looked like James had tried to clean the apartment while Wade was dead. The furniture was all right side up, and the broken stuff had been either swept into neat piles or thrown away. He’d tried to pop the dents in the wall back out, which hadn’t exactly worked, but points for trying.

No! No points for trying!

He shouldered open the door to the bedroom. James was sitting on the floor, staring morosely out the window.

“You son of a bitch!” Wade snarled. The other man stared up at him with sad, accepting eyes. He didn’t even try to avoid the punch. “What the _fuck_? What the fuck was that? I didn’t even…I was helping you! I bought you food! I gave you a place to lay low! Were you not listening to the _no killing people twice in one night_ thing?!”

James lowered his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“You’re goddamn right you’re sorry! Jesus!” Wade dragged a pistol out of the bedside table and pointed it at James’ head. Again, the other man didn’t react. “Are you out of your goddamn _mind_? I mean you are, obviously, but _still_!”

“I’ll go. Just let me change out of your clothes—“

“Shut up!” Wade dug the gun against James’ forehead. “You’re not going anywhere! You don’t get to turn this into an opportunity to be some sad martyr hobo wandering the streets! You do that and suddenly I’m the bad guy for kicking the disabled PTSD-riddled veteran out on the streets!”

James looked uncomfortable.

“So tell me, right now, the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the fucking truth about WHY you just tried to kill me. AGAIN.”

James was silent. Then he took a deep breath.

“My name is James Buchanan Barnes,” he said, softly. Wade nearly dropped the gun in surprise.

“Oh. Oh _shit_.”

"I used to protect him," James whispered. "Ran after that little punk so many times, trying to keep him safe. And then I tried to kill him."

James' face twisted up, a mask of misery. Wade rubbed his hand over his face. 

“I’m too sober for this,” he muttered. He wandered out into the kitchen, grabbed a six pack of beer from the fridge, and wandered back into the bedroom. He flopped down on the floor next to James—next to Bucky goddamn Barnes – and handed him a beer.

“Drink.”

James looked confused.

“It’s ten am.”

“ _Drink_.”

James took a sip of beer while Wade chugged the first bottle and opened a second.

“Okay. So. You’re here because you nearly killed your best friend and you think he’ll kill you back?”

“No!” James looked horrified, then shifted uncomfortably. “He would—he would never…if he wanted to do that he had plenty of chances. And he didn’t. So I don’t think he’d do it now.”

“So why are you hiding?”

“He’s looking for me.”

Wade thought about that for a minute.

“I think that kind of un-answers my question. Why are you hiding if he wants to see you?”

“I tried to kill him, and you know what he did? He threw his shield away! He would have _let_ me kill him, because he’s an idiot with no self-preservation!”

“Ohhh, he’s one of _those_.”  

James sighed.

“He’s really good at tracking me, though. Every time I think I’ve given him the slip he shows up and I have to run. I wouldn’t be surprised if he found me here.”

“Pfft. There’s nothing to lead him here. You took all your stuff when I left and I—“ Wade stopped. Had he brought his lockpicks back with him? He’d put them in his pocket but he didn’t remember having to take them out when he got home. He scrunched his face up.

**How obnoxiously convenient.**

James sat up, expression frantic.

“What. What did you do?”

Wade clamped his mouth shut and made an uncomfortable noise. James’ expression went blank.

“You left something behind, didn’t you?”

Wade made another face that said ‘yes and I am very sorry’.

“Is there any way he could use that to get back to you?”

Wade thought about the deadpool symbol he’s stitched on the outside of the lockpick case, and the little tag that said ‘if found please return to’.

 “Mmmmaybe.”

James closed his eyes and sighed. “Okay. I’m going to pack and then—“

“No no! I’ve got this. I’ll go get them, and if they’re there, I’ll throw them off our trail. Your trail. Whatever.”

“You’re sure that’ll work?”

“I’m very good at confusing people. Stay here. Don’t drink all my beer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, again, new job sucks up a lot of my life. ;-;


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Captain America appears, with bonus sexy assistant Falcon.

Sneaking through the warehouse district was a lot easier during the day, because you could put on a hat and a hoodie and stroll casually, and nobody thought anything of it. So long as they didn’t get a good look at Wade’s face, he was golden.

_Thank you for being a friend, traveled the road and back again—_

**Really not helping.**

_:(_

**STOP MAKING EMOTICONS. It gives us headaches, you know that!**

“Guys! Shh! Focus!”

Wade spotted a car outside the warehouse he’d found James in the night before. It was a dark grey sedan, the plainest and most boring car anyone could ever pick, and thus obviously belonging to Captain America trying to stay undercover while searching for his wayward friend.

People could be _so_ predictable.

He decided to take the extra casual route. He walked in through the door he’d entered the night before, noting the new scuffs at the door and along the concrete.

“Lookin for my lockpicks, cause I dropped em on the floooor~” he sang. “And I really need em so I don’t go to jaaaail~”

He heard movement down the hall, and added a little dance to his steps.

“Lockpicks, lockpicks where’d you go—oh hello!”

Captain America! And some black dude.

Scratch that, a very attractive black dude. Two very attractive muscular men looking at Wade warily in a very attractively worried way.

_Try saying that five times fast._

“Hello,” said Captain Goddamn America, unbelievably polite to the stranger returning to the scene of a crime. “Who are you?”

“I’m Wade. Wade Wi-“ Shit he shouldn't tell them his full name. “-iiiith a W. A-D-E. Wade. That’s my name.”

Attractive Man 1 glanced over at Attractive Man 2: Electric Boogaloo, who glanced right back. It was working – Wade had successfully convinced them that he was crazy. Now to work on the “harmless” part, and the “throwing them off the scent” part.

“I was here last night,” he said. “Breaking and entering.”

“Why?” asked Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

“To steal stuff,” Wade said plainly. A Judgment Look passed across Captain Rogers’ face. “Not like. Stuff people own. Most of these warehouses are abandoned. I like to nose around, see if I can find anything cool.”

“Did you see anything cool last night?” Sexy Nameless Black Man asked. Wade glanced around and leaned in conspiratorially.

“I saw the _Winter Soldier_ ,” he whispered, and waggled his eyebrows. They’d grown in this week. He would enjoy them while he had them.

Captain America tensed. His jaw did a really cool Lantern Jaw of Justice thing. It was hot.

“You saw him.”

“Yup! It was _so_ cool.”

“Wade,” said Captain Fucking America Who Knew His Goddamn Name and Was Using It. “I need you to tell me _exactly_ what happened last night.”

_My time to shine._

“Weeelll, it all started two days ago. I wanted to make pancakes, but I was out of eggs, and you can’t make pancakes without eggs so I had to go to the store. I was on my way there when I saw this lady with this teeny tiny dog, like basically a giant pompom on legs, and I was like “what the hell!” because who need a dog that small? Did you know dogs are descended from wolves? And now they’re that! Isn’t that so messed up? Anyway, so I follow this lady for a few blocks and she totally freaks out and calls the police and they try and arrest me. So I book it across town…”

Wade let his mouth take over. As he rambled on, he replanned his grocery list for two people, set a mental note to call Sandy and cancel on poker night for a while,  and took the opportunity to just chill. After a few moments he took note of the glazed expressions of his captive audience – only Captain America wasn’t looking too glazed. He  was focusing very intently on Wade’s story, as if memorizing every detail. That was weird. Nobody ever listened when he talked.

**Well. One person always listened.**

Wade tripped over a word and came to a stuttering halt. Damnit. James had put Nathan into his head and now he was stuck there, like a splinter too small to dig out, jabbing into him just when he thought he’d forgotten.

“um…anyway yeah so I came here and was going to pick the lock, but the door was already smashed in. I figured somebody was up to something so I thought I’d check it out. When I got in, he was sitting right over there, by that wall.” He pointed. Steve – was Wade allowed to call him Steve? Steve had called him Wade. Yes. First name basis with Captain America. In his head anyway – looked sharply at the wall, as if he could make it divulge its knowledge. Chocolate Thunder wandered over to the wall and began to examine the spot.

“He seemed upset. Guess he didn’t like his party being crashed. Table for one and whatnot. I asked him if he was okay and he pointed a gun at me. That’s how I knew he was the Winter Soldier, I saw the arm. I asked him if he needed any help. Has to be rough, being on the run from everybody. He said he no, but had I seen anybody else outside. _I_ said no, why, and he said someone was chasing him.”

Steve swallowed.

“Did he say anything about this person?”

“No. Just that he needed to get away. He seemed really frustrated. Said he was going to have to leave, since I found him. Which is totally bogus because I’m super trustworthy!” Wade protested. There was a quiet snort of disbelief from Steve’s attractive friend.

“He told me he was going to go downtown and try and take the train up north. Which we both know means he’s not going to do that at all. If I were him though, I would stay up north. He’s gotta keep that arm covered. Hard to do without getting heatstroke down south. But he definitely won’t be taking the train.”

“That means the bus. Only other way for him to go. He can’t take planes,” said Steve’s friend who was super hot.

“Right. We’ll start there. See if Tony can’t help us follow ticket purchases or something.” Steve turned to Wade and dug something out of his pocket. “Here.” He handed Wade the lockpick set. “Thank you for your help.”

Steve’s smile was so hot. So super hot. Wade’s insides went hella squishy.

“Uh. N-no problem. Totally…you know my duty as an American. Uh. Canadian. I mean I’m Canadian but I’m still. I mean I live _here_ , right? Ha ha ha.” Shut up shut up shut up shut up. Be cool. For once in your life, be cool!

He took the lockpicks and held them tightly. Steve Rogers held out his hand. Held out his hand for Wade to shake. So he could shake hands with Captain America. Uncertainly, Wade reached out and took it. It was a firm, honest handshake. Not bonecrushing tight like he had something to do, but almost gentle.

Steve probably gave _amazing_ hugs.

Both Steve and his friend gave Wade a perplexed, incredulous look.

“Oh I said that out loud. Okay. I’m just…gonna go, and leave you to your looking. I’m gonna…leave. Forever. Goodbye.”

He hurried out. Problem fixed, even if he would be cringing over that last part for the rest of forever. But that handshake…damn.

Now to tell James the good news and yell at him for drinking all his beer.

 

BRIEF THIRD-PERSON OMNISCIENT SEGUE!

“So. What do you think?” Steve asked.

“Other than the fact that all his screws are loose? He’s lying.”

“Yeah,” Steve said grimly. “That’s what I thought too.”

“You thinkin’ Hydra?”

“No, definitely not. C’mon. Let’s see if Tony can dig anything up about him. Guys like that tend to stick out.

 

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I make up for the hilariously long delay by giving you an extra long chapter. And also things get really bad.

Wade threw open the door.

“Honey, I’m home!” he called.

James stuck his head out of the bedroom door. He held out a six pack.

“I drank all your beer so I bought more.”

“Awww, aren’t you sweet!”

Wade grabbed a bottle and popped it open.

“So?”

“Hmm?”

James looked annoyed. “Did you get it?”

“Oh. Yeah. I got it. Your friend was there, and some other guy. Black. Super hot.”

“Wilson,” James muttered darkly. Was that jealousy Wade heard?

“Oh my god, his name is Wilson?? Shit I totally should have given my full name; we could have bonded!”

“You weren’t trying to bond, you were trying to stay inconspicuous.”

Wade huffed. There was a pause while James seemed to wrestle with something.

“Did he seem…was he… what was he…?” He gave Wade a look that was worried and hopeful and tinged with trepidation.

“He seemed okay.” A strange twisty feeling grew in his stomach. It made his words change on the way out of his brain. It went from ‘he seemed really worried about you, he asked me how you were’ to “he seemed really unhappy. Annoyed. Kinda mad.”

James wilted.

“Really?”

‘I think he was just frustrated by the situation’ became “Oh yeah. But don’t worry, I set him on the completely wrong trail. He won’t be able to find you for a long time. Maybe not ever.”

“Great.” James didn’t sound happy about that.

Why was he doing this? All this was doing was upsetting James.

He was doing it because James needed him. James needed someone who understood what he’d been through, who knew how to take all the shattered pieces and glue them back together into someone at least functional. Steve just wouldn’t get it. All he’d do is hold James back. He’d try to make James be the person he was before. But that person was gone. Just like the old Wade was gone.

Wade could keep him safe. Wade could keep him sane. They could do it together.

_This isn’t creepy at all._

SHUT UP.

 

Three months passed at montage speed.

_Aw, really? We’re going to skip all the good stuff!_

They watched Golden Girls. They went to the gun range and competed to find out who was the best shot (it was James, with every kind of gun, but Wade totally let him win at the pistols). They shared stories of the terrible things Hydra did to them, they insulted their handlers. Wade told James about the time he gave Brock Rumlow a wedgie and James laughed for ten minutes. They had nightmares. James complained about how hard it was to get good pizza these days.

Life was good.

Riiiight up until it wasn’t. Wade was on Long Island dealing with some drug lord for a modest fee. It was relatively quick work. In, stabbity stabbity, bangity bangity, out. But even a brief job like that could work up an appetite, so he decided, purely on a whim, to stop by Brooklyn to visit that artisanal cupcake bakery slash antique store and pick up a treat.

He was in the middle of giving his order to the bored teenager behind the counter when the bell on the door clanged.

“This is ridiculous,” he heard Steve Rogers say. He whipped around, saw Steve and Wilson through the gaps in a stack of old books, and then whipped back around to the kid behind the counter. He nearly sprained his neck in the process.

“Can we speed this up a little?”

The kid behind the counter – indeterminate gender, too many piercings and hair colors – blinked slowly.

“You know? With the hands going quickly and putting things in boxes so I can leave before the big hand gets much further on the _would you stop staring and go already_??”

“How can a cupcake be artisanal? What does that even mean?”

“This is what Brooklyn is like now, man. You’re going to have to get used to it if you ever want to move back here.”

“Ugh. Why does this place sell cupcakes _and_ antiques? Some of this stuff is older than I am.”

“Hipsters.”

“ _Ugh_.”

Wade leaned around the shelf. Falcon and Captain America were temporarily hypnotized by a shelf of wild-eyed dolls in what was probably funeral garb.

“I’m pretty sure my mother had one of these.”

Wade had to get out of there. Now. NOW.

The cashier was going so slowly. Why were they so slow. WHY SO SLOW.

They put the box of cupcakes on the counter. It barely had time to touch the tile before Wade snatched it away. He tossed a fifty in their direction and fled, cap pulled low.

 

“You know,” James said, excessively casually as he licked hibiscus frosting from the corner of his mouth. “I think you should put some feelers out, see if you can find out where St- where Captain America went. You know, just in case he figured out I’m not down south and came back here.”

Jealousy rose like bile in Wade’s throat.

“Oh. Yeah, I could. Although let’s be serious, if we haven’t heard from him in three months, he’s probably given up.”

The remainder of the cupcake slipped from James’ hand.

“ _What_?”

“I mean, I’m just saying. He would have figured out pretty quickly that you weren’t there, right?”

James gave him a definitely unintentional kicked puppy face.

“You…You think he’d just give up?”

“You’ve been running from him for months, man. He probably just took the hint and went back to DC.”

James slumped back in his seat.

“I. I figured he’d stick to it for longer than that.”

“What are you so sad about? You were trying to run away! The whole point of running is for them to not catch you!”

James mumbled something that sounded like ‘I guess’.

_We can’t keep doing this._

**He needs us.**

_We are moving away from quirky anti-hero and into creepy manipulative villain territory. We can’t give up quirky, that’s our thing!_

Wade felt like he was going to tear in two. He needed James here, and James needed to be here. They both needed someone who understood. Watching James picking morosely at the cupcake wrapper, however, definitely made Wade feel like a scumbag. If he could just be sure that James would understand why he needed to stay…

“Look, I’ll put out some feelers of my own,” he said. A compromise. “I’ll see where he is, what he’s up to. Okay?”

James gave him a grateful look, and Wade pushed away his orange peel and mocha cupcake, suddenly not hungry anymore.

 

Two weeks went by. Wade didn’t put out any feelers.

**Why can’t we focus on the fun things that we do instead of the awkward creepy ones? Like when we stayed up for three days straight watching Scrubs? Or when we had a spicy curry eating contest and James had to lock himself in the bathroom for two hours? Or when we found out James is terrified of lobsters? Or--**

He didn’t even ask Weasel to see what Cap and Falcon were doing in the city. He did his best to leave them out of his mind entirely.

But every time the phone rang, every time Wade went out and came back, it was the same thing. James would sit up, eyes lighting up, asking eagerly if that was news. Had Wade heard anything? Surely someone out there had seen Captain America.

And Wade told him, no, there was no news, James would sink back down, even gloomier than before. It wasn’t _fair_! Wade was here for him! Wade helped him! Wade was friend and companion and punching bag! What did Steve Rogers have that Wade didn’t?

…other than good looks, confidence, ethics, a sense of self-worth and purpose, a shiny shield, the respect of his peers, a motorcycle…

Maybe he should get a motorcycle.

_Maybe he should tell James what the hell is going on before it bites everyone in the ass._

 

There was a knock at the door. It was firm and forceful. A police-officer kind of knock. Wade waved a hand at James, who nodded and pulled his knife out of his boot.

Wade wrapped his hand around one of his guns and slipped over to the door. There was another knock. Wade pulled out the little security system Weasel put together for him.

 _Shit_.

Steve can’t-take-a-goddamn-hint Rogers and Sam still-stupidly-attractive-even-when-you’re-angry-at-him Wilson.

“What? Who is it?” James hissed. “Who’s there?”

Wade struggled with what to say.

 _Tell the truth dumbass they are RIGHT OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR_.

Another furious knock at the door.

“I know you’re in there, Wade!”

James dropped his knife, a rank amateur move for the goddamn Winter Soldier.

“Oh god,” he choked. “Oh god, he’s here.”

“Run!” Wade whispered. “I’ll distract them, you take the fire escape out the back!”

James didn’t move. He looked like a deer in front of an 18-wheeler, and the headlights were getting larger every second.

“James! Run!” Wade hissed. “Go!”

The door burst open. The security chains snapped and the deadbolts tore themselves out of the wall. Wade had one second to think ‘motherfucker that is going to be a _bitch_ to fix’ before he realized he should probably do something. He grabbed the still shell-shocked James and hauled him around the corner into the kitchen before the cloud of plaster dust could settle.

He heard Sam say “subtle”.

“Alright Wade, come out. I know you’re here and I know you know where Bucky is.”

“And what happens if I don’t tell you?” Wade calls. He tries to shove James towards the kitchen window. The man didn’t move. “You’ll beat it out of me? Dangle me off a rooftop?”

James wasn’t moving. He looked utterly entranced by the sound of Steve’s voice.

“Not if I don’t have to.” It didn’t sound like they’d moved from the doorway.

Suddenly a metal arm clamped down around his arm.

“Ask him why he’s looking,” James whispered. “Ask him why he cares.”

“What? No!” Wades whispered back. James’ grip on him tightened.

“Ow, okay, okay!” He cleared his throat. “Why do you even care? He tried to kill you. He’s been running from you for nearly a year. And he smells really weird, probably.”

James scowled at him.

“Because he’s my _friend_ ,” Steve said. “He needs help. I don’t care what he tried to do. I don’t care what they made him do. All I care about is helping my friend get better.”

Bile rose in Wade’s throat again. It wasn’t _fair_.

“He doesn’t need-“ he started to say, but James was rising to his feet.

“Jesus,” James croaked. “You still don’t have any self-preservation instincts, do you?

Wade poked his head around the corner. Steve was smiling, but it looked like it hurt.

“You know how I am,” he said.

“Yeah,” James said. “I do.”

Steve’s smile faltered. He had that same hungry look on his face that James got sometimes.

“Bucky, please. Just…let me—“

James stepped out around the corner. Steve smiled. His eyes were wet. James didn’t look that dry-eyed either.

It wasn’t _fair_ , it wasn’t _fair,_ it wasn’t fucking _FAIR_

“You’re a punk,” James said. “Even after everything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re still a huge jerk, so we’re even.”

James started to walk towards Steve, a huge smile stretching across his face. Wade had never seen him smile like that, even after everything they’d done together and all that Wade had done for him. Wade had spent months helping James piece himself back together and this was what he got? Not so much as a damn goodbye? It was typical, it was so fucking typical.

Wade lunged. He caught James around the neck and jammed the barrel of his gun into the soft skin under James’ jaw.

“Nobody goes anywhere,” he snarled.

_Well….fuck._


	7. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the story ends, for good or for ill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HA HA HA HA HA IT IS DONE
> 
> i'm sorry i'm so sorry it's so late i'm so sorry

_When last we left our intrepid hero, he had completely snapped and put a gun to his new friend’s head. Well done us._

“Shut up,” Wade snarled.

“I didn’t say anything,” Steve said. He had his hands held up, but Wilson was still holding his gun.

“He wasn’t talking to you,” James said, remarkably calm for a man being held hostage.

“You think I’m going to let you leave, just like that? After everything? You think you get to walk out on me, just take off and leave me on my own? Like none of it even mattered?”

“You know it mattered. It still matters.”

“Oh, but I can’t compare to the great Captain America, can I? He shows up and you are just on your way. I kept you hidden for _months_ , and all he has to do is say please?”

Wade saw Sam’s hand drift towards his back pocket and pressed the gun in harder.

“Don’t you fucking dare, flyboy,” he hissed.

“Wade-“

“Tell them to go.” Wade was shocked at how his voice cracked. “Tell them to leave and not come back, and you and me are gonna stay here and be pals, just like before, and nothing changes.”

Steve’s jaw went full lantern, hands tightening into fists.

“If you think I’m going to do that you’re-“

“I’m what? Crazy?” Wade laughed, slightly hysterically. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner! Congratulations on your new car! Vanna show him what else he won!”

James put a hand on Wade’s arm.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was soft and warm, as boy-next-door as it must have been before Hydra got their tentacles on him. “Wade. Nothing _is_ changing.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

“I know what’s going on in your head, Wade. You know I do. You’re used to people taking what they need and leaving. People keeping you around until they don’t have a use for you anymore. _I’m not like that_. I don’t abandon my friends. No matter what.”

_Fuck. Fuck, we fucked up, man, we fucked up, he wasn’t going to leave-_

**Yes he was, yes he was, they always do, we can’t trust him!**

“You helped me be a person again. You really think I’d just up and leave someone who did that for me? You’re my friend, Wade. And you always will be.”

“I am literally holding a gun to your head.” Wade’s voice crept shakily out of a painfully-tight throat.

“And I literally killed you twice.” James waved away Steve and Sam’s alarmed looks. “I’d say this makes us almost even.”

James took hold of Wade’s wrist and gently pulled his arm away. He turned and Wade braced for the punch. Instead, James clapped a hand to Wade’s shoulder and squeezed tightly.

“I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He looked at Steve, expression sad and slightly embarrassed. “I’m safe here. I don’t have to worry about…a lot of things. And Steve, I know you’re you, and end of the line, and everything, but you don’t…” he trailed off.

“I won’t get it,” Steve said. He was clearly unhappy, but said “Okay. Whatever you need, Buck.”

“Seriously?” Sam said.  “ _Seriously_?”

“Just…trust me, okay?” James said. “Please.”

Sam shook his head, folded his arms, glared at Wade. Wade looked down at the floor.  

“You know, Natasha’s got some screwed up shit in her past, too, and she is _significantly_ less insane than this dude.”

“It’s not the same. She was a kid. She _started_ fucked up and had to build something new. She doesn’t know what it’s like to have already been a person, and then have it taken away. It’s _different_.” James ran a hand through his hair and winced when strands got caught in the metal joints.

Steve put a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“I trust him.”

“You trust- okay, did everyone just forget that he a, lied to us about where your friend was b, hid him from us for _months_ and c, _put a fucking gun to his head_?”

“Not Wade,” Steve said. “I trust Bucky. If he thinks this is a good idea…” He turned and glared at Wade. It was, frankly, terrifying. It was like having a laserbeam of concentrated righteous glory narrowed directly at his forehead. “But I’m going to keep an eye on you. And if you ever, _ever_ do anything like this…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to. Wade looked at his feet again.

James squeezed Wade’s shoulder again.

“I’m gonna go,” he said softly. “But I’m gonna come back. It’s gonna be okay.”

Wade nodded, looked up at James.

“If you want you can break a few bones on your way out.”

“I’ve got complete control of the remote and takeout choices for the rest of the year,” James said. He thumped Wade on the shoulder and turned back to the other two. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Come on. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

Finally, Steve smiled again and threw an arm around James’ shoulders. A few months ago, James would have pulled a knife and gone right for the ribs before he even knew what he was doing.  Now he just smiled up at Steve. Wade had helped with that. Wade had _taken_ that knife to the ribs, again and again, until James could handle hugging.

And James knew that. Knew it, appreciated it, was sticking around because of it. Something warm and fuzzy rolled around in Wade’s chest.

Sam rolled his eyes and walked out, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _white people, god damn_ ’. Steve and James left without a backwards look, both looking starry eyed like every dream had ever come true.

“Okay,” Wade called after them. “I’ll just…be here. Fixing the door.”  

_Holy shit that actually turned out okay? We get a happy ending? Seriously?_

**High five dudes!**

*internal high five noise*

 

 

_Six months later_

Wade thumped his heel against the coffee table in time with the theme song of the show currently playing. He was about four hours into his Married…With Children marathon and already debating switching over to his beloved Golden Girls.

A tabby cat hopped up on his lap with a _mrt_ and settled herself like a queen on her throne. He scratched her ears.

“Hey Mazel. How’s my boo?”

“ _Mow.”_

Mazel was Mazeltov, discovered in the apartment parking lot the day Bucky made a very important rediscovery via crying for fifteen minutes in front of a Passover display in the supermarket. Wade had never really considered himself one for pets, but she was already his favorite furry companion.

Bucky appeared in the doorway, black duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“You heading out?”

“Yeah, I’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“I hear Prague is beautiful this time of year. Hey, and this time: try and get laid.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I mean it! At least a quick handy in an airport bathroom or something. I worry about your needs!”  

“Jesus Christ.” He thumped Wade on the back of the head as he passed. “Don’t feed Mazel dumplings while I’m gone. She’s getting fat.”

“Sure thing.” In a stage whisper to Mazel he said “It’s okay precious, you can have all the dumplings you want. I’m the fun dad.”

“Hey.” Bucky’s tone was so serious that Wade turned around. Bucky looked a little uncomfortable. “I heard the rumors from that friend of yours, Weasel. About that Cable guy.”

**MAYDAY, MAYDAY**

“The extremely underrated Jim Carrey movie or the extremely incoherent comedian?”

“The Nathan Summers one. He’s your Nate, right?”

**MAYDAYMAYDAYMAYDAYMAYDAY**

“He’s not my anything,” Wade growled. “Just a big, stupid, dumb, self-righteous, friend-leaving jerk.”

_Who is super hot and gets us on a deeper level than anyone else we’ve ever met-_

**LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LAAAAA**

“If he shows up, you call me, okay? And I’ll come right back.”

Wade blinked, startled.

“Uh…you’re going on a super important mission, remember? You and Friend Steve?”

Bucky shrugged.

“Steve can handle himself, and he can call in someone else to help. I mean it, Wade. You need me, I’m here. I’d like to have words with this Nate guy.”

“Words?” was all Wade managed to say, utterly poleaxed

_vocab!_

by the announcement.

“You know. ‘You upset my friend, do it again and they’ll never find your body’, that sort of thing.” Bucky gave Wade a half-smile and a little salute, then turned on his heel and left. “And no dumplings!” he called as he shut the door.

_Okay, I get we’re really happy but this giant smile? Super goofy._

**Extremely detrimental to our badass image.**

“Ah, fuck off,” Wade said, and queued up Golden Girls.


End file.
